Amazing Things
by mara-anni
Summary: Character study. Sam & Jack are leaving the SGC to move on to their new commands and are reflecting on how things turned out. Set quite some time after S8.


**A/N:** I was rummaging about in my hard drive and came across this piece I'd written many years ago and figured I'd share.  
It's set well post S8...and bear in mind that in my Reality S9/10 never happened. It hasn't been beta read, so any errors are mine alone.

 **Amazing Things**

 **by mara-anni**

Sam stood for a moment in the living room. The house was quiet, empty. She switched the radio on low and allowed the soft tones to chase some of the quiet away. Whoever thought that space travel was peaceful was sorely mistaken. There was always a low hum in the background, the constant thrumming of the engines. It never bothered her when she was out there. Perhaps she'd gotten used to it; the SGC had a similar score running in the background. She'd actually come to find it comforting, a signal that she was home. And perhaps that was why she found the silence of a lonely house deafening. She had to ease herself into it and she found playing some soft music for a little while helped.

She left the stereo to do its work and moved to gaze through the window and into the backyard. The sky was grey, and a soft rain fell making dark splodges on the wood planks of the decking. His beloved grill was safely covered. Would he take that with him? Sam allowed a nostalgic sigh to pass her lips. This would most likely be the last time she stood here, in this room. She'd noted the ' _For S_ _ale_ ' post shoved prominently into the soil at the front of the house, and there were already a few boxes stacked in the hallway. She'd taken a last tour of the house when she'd come in. Most of the pictures on the walls had been taken down; the guest room was completely packed up. His bedroom was the same though; his bed rumpled and unmade as always, a small rebellion against the regimented life of a military man. It made her smile. She looked around the living room again, the generous, undraped windows brightening the room despite the gloom outside. This room was also untouched. The chess board still sat—the pieces lined up and ready for battle—on one of the two lamp tables which bookended the comfortable armchair that had become unofficially hers over the years. The same frames still hung from the walls. Her eyes unerringly found the photo of him with Sara and Charlie. She didn't mind that it was still there. It was a part of him, his past. Her eyes continued to track the room and fell upon something new. A large frame sat on the coffee table. It was facing the sofa so she couldn't see the picture within it. She picked it up and felt her heart give a great lurch. It was a photo of them, sitting on the little dock by the pond at his cabin. Sam ran a finger gently over the image of his face. She remembered the exact moment, for every moment of their first time in Minnesota was etched into her mind, but wondered how in God's name he had managed to get a photo of it. She wanted one. She would ask him to make a copy for her. She would need it for her new office. Though, maybe one not quite this size. She smiled as she replaced it on the coffee table, facing the sofa where he could see it, and warmth filled her, fingers to toes, at that thought.

After another glance about the living room, she returned to the window and the drizzle outside. So much was changing, and so quickly. He'd retired. Before they had left for the cabin, he had submitted the letter, had told her about it. He stood in her lab at the SGC as they waited for the ZPM—and the camcorder found with it—to arrive, and told her. _It was done_ , he'd said simply as though it were an everyday occurrence. "S _o pack your bags Carter, coz the fish aren't waitin'"_ _._ And then he'd reached out and tucked an errant strand of her short hair behind her ear, before strolling casually out the door. She'd never been so elated and so terrified all at the same time.

Sam chuckled out loud at herself as she watched a flash of lightening in the distance. Yes, so much was changing. There was no more SG-1. Teal'c was taking his place among the new ruling body of his people. Daniel, after months of cajoling, was finally heading to Atlantis and a life's work studying the city. And she was leaving to take command of Area 51 in just two days. She'd already let her house. It had been finalised just a few days before she had left for her deep space exploration mission. She had stayed here until she had to leave him then too. Her mind took her back to the times they had spent in this room. And not just the two of them. Jack had insisted on many a team night here, drinking beer, watching movies. She would miss it. She would miss _them;_ her team, her family.

Not for the first time she wondered how she had come to be here, standing alone and comfortable in his living room as though she lived here. For over eight years she had loved him. Oh, she had been utterly blind to it for the first three, she admitted. It took losing him to figure it out. What was the cliché? You don't know what you have, till it's gone? Well, she certainly hadn't. Maybe because he'd always just been _there_. To tease her, to ask questions about wormhole theory and then wince at her explanations, to comfort her—she would never forget the first time he'd held her and how suddenly safe she had felt in his arms. They took nearly all their meals together; he would swing by and drag her out of her lab. And then he was gone; lost on an alien planet with no way to tell if he'd survived the meteorite hits. A sudden chill shot through Sam's spine as she remembered and she hugged herself. She'd had time to think, time to miss him, in the three very long months he'd been stuck on Edora. Sam felt the skin between her brows pucker, she swallowed and shook her head to dispel the hurt of the very old wound the name of that planet exposed. Regardless of the outcome, that was when she realised that she loved him. Foolishly, in hindsight, she had thought she would get over it. She'd thought of it as a weakness and she would have to toughen up. And besides, she'd thought there was no way he could or would ever love her in return. And it really was enough for her to have him back.

And then Anise/Freya arrived with her armbands. And Jack didn't leave her. She begged him to, but he didn't. Though they were both about to be blown to bits, and he could have escaped, he wouldn't leave. And as they stood there, only inches apart, without saying a word, she understood for the first time that he loved her. How anyone could feel happiness and despair simultaneously, she had not understood until that moment. For he loved her too. She saw it in every part of his face; the intense, somewhat shocked, but terrified gaze he held on her. The way his lips moved to form the words he could not actually voice. And her heart soared for it, or at least it would have, had not the realisation that he would die here with her, because of her, hit her a moment later.

She thought now of the words he'd spoken days later, during the Zatarc testing. He'd said that he would rather die than lose her. The words had played in her mind many times over the years. But she had thought until quite recently that they no longer held true. She thought of them again now—standing in his living room, a few of her things strewn, at this very moment, around his bedroom. He'd meant it. Not metaphorically, but quite literally. He'd loved her that much that he really did have no intention of living without her. She'd tried not to think of it too much, but there was really no denying it. Staying with her the way he had, refusing to leave though there was no way he could have saved her; it was suicide. Something painful stabbed at Sam's gut, and for a moment it was difficult to breathe. But something else occurred to her then. It wasn't long after his admission that the computer Entity had invaded her body and he himself had shot her twice with a Zat, effectively killing her, at least as far as he knew. Sam wondered with some horror what he would have done had she not survived it. And she remembered his son, and Daniel's description of his state of mind. She felt a stab of that same concurrent delight and terror she'd felt stuck behind the force field. To be loved so much by the man you've loved in that same way for years, was breathtaking; but to know that he couldn't, or wouldn't, go on without you was frightening. But then, that was one of the reasons they had both decided on this new direction wasn't it? They would both be leaving the SGC, they would both be out of the line of fire. Though he had never voiced this fear to her directly, just as she had never voiced her greatest fear: that _he_ would leave _her_. She wondered if that was why he was still at the SGC, when by rights he should have already made the move to Washington.

She felt her heart fill and swell with him, as though he fit inside it. In the face of this, how could she ever have doubted his love for her the way she had? But then, he'd wanted her to. He'd admitted it one fine summer's day at the cabin, when she'd been embarrassingly overcome by the emotions roiling within her with their romantic relationship still so new. He'd told her that day that he'd wanted to make her believe that he cared for her no more than he did anyone else under his command, that he'd done it on purpose. He didn't explain why, maybe he couldn't. But he'd told her that he'd never stopped loving her, even through all the years he'd all but convinced her he didn't care. And so she hadn't asked anything further. Maybe he would tell her more someday, but ultimately all that had mattered then, and now, was that he'd continued to love her all along, even as he'd made her doubt it. To protect her, she was sure. She knew him well enough now to understand that he'd hurt himself to protect her.

They had both suffered a long time to get to this point. She had tried to move on, to expunge him from her heart and soul. She had tried to love another; one who clearly loved her, whose affection for her had made her care for him too. But to care for a man and to love him the way she loved Jack, were two completely different things. And when she finally understood this; understood that the love she felt for Jack wouldn't ever disappear or diminish, she'd realised what a mistake she'd almost made in trying to replace him; in trying to fill the vacuum he'd left in her soul with someone else. Like trying to stop the bleeding of a severed artery with a kid's sized bandaid. Sam drew in a deep breath and let it go, all those years of pain; it seemed like such a waste of time.

In the periphery of her thoughts, Sam noted the song change on the radio but was too caught up in memory to pay it any mind. Until the chorus played and the words tugged her out of her reverie to pay attention. She smiled as she listened to the words. They were right for her, for them. Fortuitous, she thought, that this song should play now as she was steeped in dark and melancholy thoughts. The song was right, they really had done some amazing things together hadn't they? For years they were embroiled in a war that only a handful of people knew about and even less people actually fought. And they'd won, eight years later, saving the world again. How many times did that make? Teal'c would know. They had explored the galaxy; new worlds, new cultures and people. Some friendly, some...not so much. New technologies they'd found and built. They'd blown up a sun. Travelled through the stars. They'd gone back and forth through time and seen alternate realities. They'd fought side by side; rescued, protected and killed together. They'd survived the unsurvivable; were captured, tortured and made their escape together. They slept upon alien soil and gazed at alien skies together. Always together. And now that she thought about it, as the song said, she wouldn't change it. Not a moment of it.

SG1SG1SG1SG1

Only ten minutes away from home, Jack had to almost forcibly restrain himself from hammering on the gas pedal. He'd received the report that the Prometheus had returned to orbit earlier this afternoon, right on schedule. _For a change_ , he thought. Not that he kept tabs on where the ship was at any given time, at least not usually. The stars on his shoulders definitely had their perks. Besides, he was convinced the ship was jinxed; since before it had been flight ready it had caused all manner of problems for his team. He caught himself. He still thought of SG-1 as his and he supposed he always would. Maybe, officially, the team had disbanded and even the designation retired, but to Jack the four of them – him, T, Daniel and Carter – would always be SG-1. It's how he thought of them when he thought of them collectively, and now that he considered it, it was probably no different than the way people thought of their families. The Carters or The O'Neills, The Jacksons—not the five—or The...Teal'cs? Jack's lip twitched. They were simply SG-1. And though he'd tried to separate himself from the team somewhat—or at least thought he had—in the year he'd commanded the base as General, he knew that everyone on that base still saw him as one of them. He'd understood that when his troops had staged their little intervention at the time they'd all thought SG-1 had been captured by that scum-sucking piece of crap, Baal. Jack swallowed at the memory. He thought he'd kept it together pretty well, all things considered, though somewhere buried deep, he knew what would have happened to him if SG-1 had never returned. Jack rolled his shoulders in his seat, and forced his white-knuckled grip on the wheel to loosen.

It had all been a bluff of course—Jack had to give Baal credit for his poker face—and all's well that ends well, right? Jack figured, despite his more fervent efforts in the last months of his command to pull back from SG-1, in light of recent events there was really no denying he was a fully ensconced member of that mismatched little family. And he found he no longer minded. For the first time in a long time, Jack felt a sense of pleasure and satisfaction at the thought; the way it used to be before he'd taken the promotion. It had been his doing, of course. He had divorced himself from his team. No, if he were being honest with himself, he had divorced himself from Sam. The fact that he couldn't have his family around him was the fallout. Sure, he hung out with them on base sometimes; sparring with T, taking time out of his schedule to bug Daniel in his lab, skirting Carter's, but it hadn't been the same. And Cassie. He phoned to touch base with her whenever he could, but he hadn't seen her for months at a time. Until recently. He felt like a man revived from the brink of drowning. And the reason, the one who'd resuscitated him, was right now waiting for him at his home.

He couldn't help it, his foot pushed just a little further. When he thought of it, of what he'd nearly done, he felt like giving himself a good, swift kick...in the head. The right thing, he thought derisively; he'd thought he'd been doing the right thing. Not for him, he'd sure as hell known it wasn't right for him, but for her. He'd loved her too damn much for her own good. It was dangerous. If anyone knew, if their enemies discovered it during one of their many stays at Casa De La Goa'uld, they could use it to hurt her. He'd been blinded to the very real danger his feelings for her put her in. And an enemy _had_ seen hadn't they? And they _had_ used it. It hadn't been a Goa'uld, and it hadn't even been off world. But the computer entity that invaded the base and then her body had been no less a threat. It had all but told him...he would never forget the computerised voice... _"I have observed,"_ it had said. _"This one is important."_ And he knew in that moment, as he gazed into the eyes he loved and knew so well and saw nothing familiar, that the Entity was addressing him, personally. That it had seen right through him. And he was forced to admit, he wasn't careful. He'd gotten complacent. Shared gazes and whispered words. He stood too close to her, he allowed the foolish grin to escape onto his face all too often when she smiled at him and he spent far too much time with her when it wasn't necessary. He glanced her way a million times when she wasn't aware of it—and sometimes when she was—and when he thought no one was watching. But this time someone, something, had been watching. _"For this reason this one was chosen."_ The Entity wasn't talking to anyone else, Jack knew that, they all knew that; hell, even Hammond knew it. It targeted her, beckoned her into its trap with her own ID, because it knew Jack's position, it knew he was in charge but for Hammond, and it knew he had a particular soft spot for Samantha Carter. She was his weakness, and she had suffered for it. Almost died for it. He'd been callous with someone he'd loved before...he wasn't going to do it again. Not this time. Not with her. The Entity was right; she was far, far too important.

She would get over him, he'd thought. And in the meantime, she'd be safe. Or at least as safe as any of them were. If she were hurt, if she were targeted, it would not be to get at him. It would not be because of his weakness.

So he'd decided to let her go. Or at least he'd pretend to; he wasn't quite dense enough not to know that he'd never felt this way about anyone, not even Sara. He'd convinced himself that eventually Sam would get the idea and find someone else, ultimately someone better for her than he was. The fact that she hadn't still left him astounded. But he'd hurt her.

For nearly four years he'd kept himself away from her. He was a good liar when he wanted to be, he thought bitterly. He'd played his part so well that even she'd believed he didn't give a damn about her. Maybe it had protected her, maybe it hadn't. But it had hurt her, damaged her. He'd known the whole time that she continued to harbour feelings for him, and he'd thrown them in her face repeatedly. How many times had she come to him, tried to broach the forbidden subject, given him a chance to walk through that proverbial door? He'd lost count. And each time he'd cut her off, hadn't allowed her to go on. And then he'd used his anger—anger at himself, anger at her for making him love her, his disgust that he could sleep with one woman and wish she were another. It was his greatest tool, and the easiest weapon to wield. And each time he had; each time he'd seen the light go out of her eyes, another piece of him died. But it was for her. It was best for her, he'd thought. And he'd have carved out his own heart if it had been what she needed. Jack snorted at himself. What she needed? No one was as stunned as he when it finally dawned on him that what she needed was _him_.

Damn it. What was the matter with him? He had to shake this mood off. She'd made it, they'd made it, and now she was moving to Nellis, geek heaven.

And he was going to Washington.

Originally, he'd planned to retire. But they'd practically begged him to stay active, offered him alternatives. Who knew Hammond could do the puppy dog eyes? Between him and Hayes, they'd known just what buttons to push. He and Sam had discussed it. They'd discussed many things. He'd never asked her to leave the field; he'd rather bite off his own tongue than ask her to give anything up for him. But she'd known, he supposed. She understood him like no one else ever had, so why should it be surprising? So, instead of staying at the SGC, she'd asked for command of Groom Lake, and they'd made it happen.

Sometimes he couldn't quite _believe_ what was happening. Not the reassignments, that was normal—though maybe he'd never actually seen himself at the Pentagon. No, it was the fact that he'd be spending every weekend, every leave day he could wrangle, with Sam. That she had an underwear draw in his dresser...she had others, but that was by far his favourite. That her toothbrush sat with his in the bathroom next to a jar of the fragrant cream she always slathered over herself after a shower. That she would be waiting for him when he got home tonight and, after being away from him for too long—it was always too long, a day was too long—he would fall asleep with her in his arms. How had he managed to survive without it? He'd wasted so much time. Why hadn't he retired and swept her off her feet years ago? And why in the hell was he dwelling, suddenly? Hadn't he himself told her not to?

He smacked the radio and let the noise fill the cabin of his truck. Sometimes it was too quiet. And thinking was overrated.

The song the radio played drifted into his consciousness and he found himself smirking as his thoughts shifted and new remembrances stirred in him. The pink stuff she drank on P3X-595; Daniel with his arms spread wide, trying to communicate the notion of flying to a bunch of naked white aliens; Teal'c in a purple shirt and a chunky peace sign hanging from his neck.

Jack released a smug huff. Damn right they'd done amazing things.

He remembered seeing Sam's angelic face each time he swam to consciousness; Daniel juggling his books and his pack with his glasses askew; Teal'c rising from the dead and smelling like lavender; the bite mark Sam left in one of his gloves; the way her brows knit when she was thinking up yet another brilliant idea that would pull their asses out of the fire, and then the way they'd shoot up just as she said "sir, I have an idea"; the single puff of air to calm her nerves when she blew up a sun.

She truly had been amazing. The song was right. Jack gunned the engine one last time as he pulled into his drive and slammed on the breaks. He bounded to his front door and inside.

He paused at the top step and looked into the living room. The fire she'd lit to ward off some of the chill crackled merrily in the hearth and she stood, her arms wrapped around herself, facing out into the rainy evening. He could see her face reflected in the glass; she seemed lost in thought, but a smile touched her lips. She looked...happy. She hadn't noticed him enter the house. Unusual. She had the radio on too, and he took a moment to watch her before he thought about disturbing her. He wouldn't have this luxury again for a while. And, he thought again, she really had been amazing. Throughout it all, she had been amazing. And, he realised, he wouldn't change a thing.

Other memories came as he watched her. The first time he tasted her lips, the second time...the last...

When his foot hit the floor with a deliberate thud, she spun, her arms dropping. And not a moment later a fully fledged, beaming Carter smile spread across her face; dimpling her cheeks and all but blinding him. He would never tire of that; the smile was his and she wore it every time he walked into a room unexpectedly, which is why he'd be doing his damndest to keep it up. He was sure she had no clue, and he wasn't about to bring it to her attention; she might stop. She took a single step toward him with her upturned lips and her eyes alive.

With two strides, he crossed the living room and enveloped her into his arms with a murmured "c'mere," into her neck. And he breathed her in. Carter. Something like vanilla and mangos. He pulled back just enough to look at her.

"Hey." She smiled up at him.

"Hey, yourself." He ran a thumb across her smooth cheek and marvelled, not for the first time, that he could just do that now, whenever he wanted. Her eyes softened. "So, Carter. Is the power out or somethin'?"

She blinked. "No, why...?" He watched the glow on her skin from the firelight and the flames dance in her eyes when they widened in surprise. "Oh," she said. "I guess I lost track of time."

Her eyes came back to his, a little embarrassment in them now. "I was just thinking."

"I'm shocked." He couldn't help the smirk that escaped onto his face, and noted her gaze shift to his lips.

She arched an eyebrow at him, but she couldn't hide the twinkle in her eye and when he brushed his lips over her temple she forgot to try. He loved that. Was there anyone else who could do that to her? He didn't want to know. All he knew was, no one else ever would...or he'd have to shoot them.

He threaded his fingers through her hair. It was longer than usual, almost down to her shoulders now. "What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged her shoulders in his arms. "Nothing, really. And everything. Some of the things we've done."

He remembered the song. "Amazing things?"

"Yeah," she laughed.

He stroked a thumb over her bottom lip this time, making her lips part and her eyes flutter closed. It was enough to make a man go weak at the knees himself.

"You _are_ amazing." Her eyes popped open, surprise in them. Maybe he didn't tell her these things enough. It was just, he didn't really know how. "We need to find the name of that song. I'll want to play it before every meeting with the suits in Washington."

She touched his face. "I missed you."

Any other thoughts he might have had vanished and, he decided, they'd both done far too much thinking today. His hand slid to the nape of her neck and his lips descended on hers.

SG1SG1SG1SG1

They'd melted together onto the rug in front of the fire, limbs tangled. And, God knows, she really had missed him. How had she gone all those years without feeling his lips slide over hers?

"We're home," he mumbled against them, before his lips glided down her cheek to fasten onto her neck.

And the last coherent thought she had was that he was right. She may not live here, and soon nor would he, but they were together and that was home. Always. And she wouldn't change a thing.

...

 **A/N:** Song that inspired this fic: Amazing by Alex Lloyd.

Reviews are more than welcome and always very much appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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